Finding Happiness
by xKainexx
Summary: It's Canada's birthday! Canada is spending yet another birthday alone, thoughts dark and mood glum. That is, until he gets an unexpected visitor, who just so happens to be none other than Russia. With the large nation spending the day at his house, who knows what could happen... Fail Summary. Possible OOC-ness. Couple: Russia/Canada


**I wrote this in celebration of Canada Day (sadly, I am not Canadian, but I hope to live there someday). Give Canada here some more love. Also, this is my first time experimenting with this couple that has recently grown on me. Don't know what it is about them. *sigh* Whatever it is, it definitely pulled me in.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia**

**Couple(s): Russia/Canada**

**Warnings: Possible OOC-ness from both Canada and Russia**

**I think that's it. Happy Canada Day! Enjoy~.**

* * *

"Gah!" Canada jolted awake when he felt a large weight fall on top of him.

Crawling out from under the covers, he yawned sleepily. He looked over at Kumajirou and frowned. "Why'd you do that, Kumakuji..." he murmured, his words slurred by sleep.

The bear ignored his displeasure. "Get up, it's morning already."

He sighed, nodding his head reluctantly. "All right."

His movements sluggish, Canada swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood up, stretching and letting out another yawn. Then, he put on his glasses and dragged his feet across the floor to the bathroom, quickly brushing his hair and teeth before slowly walking to the kitchen.

"You're not energetic today." Kumajirou stated matter-of-factly.

"Mm…" Canada agreed, "no reason to be." Taking out a mixing bowl, the blond began creating the pancake batter.

"But it's your birthday today."

Canada froze in his movements, hand on the cupboard handle. He pursed his lips and looked down, resuming his movements and pulling the ingredients from the shelves. "It's not like I have anyone to celebrate with." He gave a small, sad chuckle, looking over his shoulder to the bear. "Except for you, Kumadaichu."

The conversation stopped there, and Canada was glad. He didn't want to be reminded that yet again, the other nations had forgotten about his birthday. It was to be expected, though, since they rarely even remembered _him._ France only recognized him because of his hair, and he was invisible to the rest.

Why was he so invisible to everyone? Was it because he'd been a part of the British Empire for so long? Even his efforts in the wars were passed off as British efforts. Sometimes when he thought about it, Canada wanted to give them a good beating… or at least do _something_ to make them notice him!

The smell of pancakes wafting through his nose snapped Canada out of his broodings. Shaking his head, he dispersed those thoughts and sat down at the table with a shortstack of pancakes and a bottle of maple syrup. It was too early in the morning to be having such depressing thoughts. Inhaling the delicious scent emanating from the food before him, he drowned the pancakes in syrup and started eating slowly, feeling glum even though he was eating such a wonderful meal.

When he finished his meal, he washed the dishes and settled down on the couch, turning on the television to the news. The broadcast was talking about the celebrations going on, events and whatnot, and after only a minute of watching, the blond flicked it back off.

A sigh escaped his lips, and he wondered what he should do for the day. Going outside was out of the question; all the celebrations would only worsen his mood. He couldn't watch TV, and if he tried to call up one of the other nations, they'd just ask who it was and then hang up. His expression distorted in to a scowl just from thinking about it. Ah yes, they were probably all at America's house, staying over until he had his big celebration for his own birthday. At least this time around they didn't have a World Conference at this time of the year so Canada was able to stay home.

…Wait. If he recalled correctly, last year France had told America that England always took this week off because of America's birthday. Maybe he would remember Canada for once and want to spend time with him. Perking up at the thought, he went to his bedroom and grabbed his cell off the nightstand, quickly scanning his contacts for the Englishman's number and calling it.

_Ring, ring._ It took five rings for England to pick up. A cough sounded through the phone. "Hello?"

"Hello England…" he quietly responded. Was he sick?

"Uh, who is this?"

Canada snorted, wondering why he even hoped any of the nations would notice him. "This is Canada."

"Oh, hello Canada. I'm sorry, I didn't look at the caller ID before answering."

"No, it's okay…"

"So what did you need?" the Englishman asked inquisitively. Another cough came through, and Canada furrowed his brows in worry.

Despite that, he continued, questioning with a soft tone, "Um, I was wondering if you'd like to spend the day with me… if you have the time."

"I'm sorry, Canada, but I'm a bit, eh—… well, I'm a bit under the weather at the moment."

Before he could stop himself, he blurted out, "Is it because of America?"

An awkward silence stretched through the conversation. Damn it, why couldn't he keep his mouth shut? England's mood always spiraled downward whenever America was brought up at this time of year. Canada was about to apologize when England answered in a sheepish voice.

"Yes." The older nation chuckled, but it seemed forced. "Can never get rid of the bloody fever that comes about at this time of the year."

"Do you still think about it, then? The Revolution, that is." _Just keep on blabbering, why don't you?_ He resisted the urge to slap his hand to his forehead and waited to see if England would respond.

"Well, of course I do. It's a lot of history. But I'm accepting it, and him. Doesn't help with the fever, though, or the nostalgia." It was surprising how straightforward the Englishman was being about this subject. Normally, whenever anyone asked, he'd avoid it completely. Maybe the two were finally solving their problems? "Anyways, I'm sorry again, Canada."

"Oh, it's all right. You should get some rest." Canada smiled in spite of himself. Those two stubborn mules might have a chance with each other.

"I will. I'll talk to you later." _Doubt it._

"Bye." And then the two clicked off.

Canada fell back against the pillows, sliding his phone to the other side of the bed, where it teetered on the edge and then fell to the floor. "Whatever…" he muttered, ignoring the fallen device.

That had been a definite fail. He was doomed to spend the day alone, then. Well, he spent most days alone, so it wasn't as if it was a new feeling to him. Rather, it was a very familiar feeling, _too _familiar for his tastes. But what could he do? It wasn't in his personality to be showy or flashy; that was America. He didn't have the courage to put himself out there and do crazy stunts or anything like that. He guessed that even if he dressed up in a neon-colored bear suit with a flashing sign over his head saying "I'm Canada," the others still wouldn't notice him.

Canada stoop, slumping in resignation, and walked over to the AC control, turning it down below sixty degrees. Then, he plodded back to the bed and set his glasses on the nightstand, curling up under the covers. Friends… did he really have any other friends apart from Kumajirou? He had his brother and Cuba, but those two hadn't talked to him since the last World Conference. So alone, so cold. Not many nations visited his house because they didn't like the temperatures. Most of the parties and get-togethers that the nations had were in America, usually because his brother forced everyone there. Well, it was just his personality.

He shivered as the AC kicked in and draped another blanket over himself. Russia… he wondered how the arctic nation was doing. Ukraine sometimes spoke of him when he visited her, and he saw Russia at the meetings, intimidating the other nations and drinking his beloved vodka as if it were water.

Strangely enough, Canada no longer felt frightened by the Russian. Through the brief conversations they had throughout the years, he sensed that they were one in the same. Well, Russia wasn't invisible, but it seemed that even around Ukraine and Belarus, his eyes were always so cold, as if he were stuck in the deepest part of winter in a blizzard raging, nothing to see except white, all alone. His smile, underneath the mirth it held, was sad. It was as if he was trying to say "Does anyone see me?"

Probably, he was overthinking things as he always did. Or he was projecting his own emotions on to others. He gave a sad smile before closing his eyes, letting the warmth from the blankets lull him to into the comforting blackness of oblivion.

* * *

_Ding._

Canada groaned, blearily rubbing at his eyes. The image of a vodka bottle dressed in a frilly dress with arms and legs, dancing the salsa on a stage in front of a hundred other cheering vodka bottles, was still at the forefront of his mind. A second vodka bottle joined the first on the stage, dressed in a tuxedo, and the two began dancing together. Then, as the music ended, lips appeared on them and they leaned in, kissing. Cameras flashed and the audience roared as the curtains closed.

_Ding._

The images blurred as he came into consciousness. He blinked, remembering the details of his dream. Face expressionless, he sat up and stared at the wall opposite his bed. "What… the… hell?"**  
**

Rubbing his head, he wondered over the bizarre dream and summed it up to thinking about Russia before going to bed. Slipping his glasses on, he scurried to the door when the knocking sounded. "Hello?" He mumbled, opening the door. When he focused on the person in front of him, he realized that before him was none other than Russia, clad in his trademark pink scarf, a white dress shirt, gloves, and black slacks, one arm behind his back. "Russia?"

His visitor smiled and took a step closer until they were just inches from each other. Leaning in, Russia smiled and pecked him on the lips. "Добры день, Matvey."

Canada's brain momentarily clicked off, and when it rebooted, his face was as red as the maple leaf on his flag. He gaped like a fish at the larger nation, who continued innocently smiling at him. "Wha— what— what was that?"

"A greeting." Russia said, as if it were obvious.

"I see…" was his murmured response, face still burning. He averted his eyes to the floor, trying to get his heartbeat under control. Why was Russia at his doorstep? And moreover, why wasn't he furious at such an intimate greeting?

"May I come in?" he questioned, smile still present on his lips.

"Um… sure."

Canada stepped out of the way and gestured for him to come in, and Russia gave him a nod of appreciation. Shutting the door behind him, Canada led Russia to the couch where they both sat down. Silence settled between the two, making the blond squirm in his seat, eyes keeping to the floor to avoid Russia's gaze. _Why is he here?_ He didn't recall them having any meetings today, or any time in the near future for that matter. But for what other reason would he visit? **  
**

Amidst the silence, he heard shuffling and saw Russia's feet get up. He walked up to Canada, and the blond tensed. "Matvey."

Feeling timid, he slowly lifted his head and looked up at Russia. To his surprise, the other had a bouquet of sunflowers in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. Briefly, he was reminded of his dream, but those thoughts were swept away when Russia held the bouquet out to him. With wide eyes, Canada locked gazes with Russia, violet to violet, and was surprised to find a genuine smile gracing the nation's lips. "Happy birthday, Matvey."

Russia placed the bouquet in his arms, and Canada's eyes widened further at his words. Mouth opening and closing, he tried to reply, but no words would come. He looked down at the gorgeous flowers in his lap, looking freshly bloomed, and then to the Russian standing before him, and felt tears welling up in his eyes. His lips trembled and his cheeks warmed again. Tears began streaming down his cheeks, a soft sob escaping his lips.

"Wha—?" Russia looked flustered, brows furrowed and eyes looking at him with concern. "Why are you crying, Matvey?"

"I—" he was cut off by another sob, and he was unable to speak as they continued to escape. After taking a deep breath, he found his voice again, but sobs still interrupted his words. "I'm sorry— it's just… I didn't—" he choked out another sob, holding the flowers to his chest as if they were precious gems, "I didn't thinking anyone remembered."

A chuckle came from the Russian, not mirth-filled as the ones he usually heard were, but honest, as if laughing from the heart. He knelt down in front of Canada, putting them at eye level with each other. Canada sniffled, trying unsuccessfully to stop the tears from falling. "Matvey is silly. Why wouldn't I remember? You've celebrated my birthday with me, haven't you?"

Yes, he had. One year, when he was with some other nations at America's house, he overheard them saying that Russia always spent his birthday alone. They even laughed about it. Ever since, Canada had visited Russia's house for the other nation's birthday. Knowing how it felt to be alone on such a day –and angry at the others for laughing—, the blond couldn't bring himself to ignore the possibility that Russia might have felt the same way whenever he spent his birthday alone. But he hadn't expected Russia to reciprocate the sentiment.

"Yes, but… aren't I invisible?" he was asking a dumb question, of course. He was forgotten at parties, no one spoke to him at meetings… and if he _was_, it was because they thought he was America…

"Not to me, you aren't." Russia smiled, cupping Canada's cheek with a gloved hand, brushing his tears away with his thumb.

Canada returned the smile, sniffling. Finally, his tears were stopping. "Thank you, Russia."

"Call me Ivan."

He furrowed his brows, wondering why he always addressed Canada by his human name and why he wanted to addressed by his own human name. Nodding anyways, he corrected himself, "Thank you, Ivan."

Russia's smile widened. "You're welcome."

Canada looked down at the sunflowers, running a finger over the soft petals. "Are they in bloom right now?"

"Да. You should come over and see the sunflowers fields with me." Surprisingly, it didn't sound like an order, but a request.

Hesitantly, he nodded again. It couldn't be so bad to spend time with Russia, could it? Of course, his brother would have a fit, but to be honest, he didn't give a damn about America's reaction at the moment. "I'd love to."

"Спасиба." Without warning, Russia closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to Canada's, lingering there before pulling away.

Canada froze for a moment and then recovered, his face flushed all the way to his ears. Russia just kissed him again. Why did he kiss him again? Once more, Canada was shocked into speechlessness, so instead he tried to convey the question with his eyes, looking up at Russia who was now standing. This time, however, he merely cocked his head to the side and offered the Canadian a curious smile.

Vodka bottle in hand, he asked, "Do you want to drink?"

Snapping out of his shock, Canada cursed his heat pounding in his chest. Was Russia just teasing him? It didn't seem like such a far-fetched idea, but still… would he kiss a person as a joke? Sighing, he decided to let it go and looked at Russia, then at the bottle in his hand. It was still the afternoon, but… "Sure, only a bit though. Let me change first."

"Okay." He heard the Russian say as he went to the bedroom.

He switched out his pajamas for a plain white v-neck and pair of jeans, taking a moment to brush out his hair as well. On his way back to the living room, he turned the temperature up a few degrees.

Russia looked at home on his couch, vodka bottle in hand and two shot glasses on the coffee table in front of him. Probably from the kitchen, unless he carried them around somehow…

When he sat down, Russia filled both glasses and handed one to Canada, then downed his own. Canadian watched his movements carefully, then imitated him as he tilted his head back and drank it all in one go. Immediately, his throat began to burn from the alcohol, and he coughed. That stuff was _strong!_

Beside him, Russia snickered, and Canada sent a glare towards the larger nation. Shaking his head, Russia poured the second round and they began conversing about little things. Their countries, their likes and dislikes, and all throughout, Canada could feel his awareness slowly slip from him as the alcohol took hold.

They were on their sixth round of shots when Canada's mind really got away from him. He giggled, swaying in his seat on the couch. "Ivan~…" he slurred, "why d'you notice me... I'm veeery invisible, like a ghost!" he continued giggling, "But if I was a ghost, I could scare America. Like… 'Boo!'"

Russia looked down at him with an unreadable expression, but the blond simply smiled up at him drunkenly. He held his glass up for another shot, but found instead a hand taking away the glass. "I think you've had enough, Matvey."

"But, but, but!" he whined, reaching for the glass, "It's yummy. Isn't it?"

"Да, it is. But you're very drunk."

"Noooo I'm not!" then, with a clumsy hand, he grabbed for the vodka bottle and took it out of Russia's hand. Before the other could react or say anything, he took a long swing from the bottle itself, and when he took it from his lips, he giggled again. "I like you, Ivan~…"

The Russian froze, looking at Canada with wide eyes, then snatched the bottle away, setting it on the far side of the coffee table along with the two shot glasses. Eyes sad, he murmured, "Aren't you scared of me?"

Canada hummed, turning to face Russia, and brought his hands up to cup his cheeks, bringing the Russian's head down close to his. After looking long and hard at the larger nation, he let go and slumped back against the couch. "Nope! You know who I am and you brought me flowers and vodka… and invited me to your house… and you haven't mistaken me for America before… I like that last one a lot!" he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. "What's so good about him anyways… so loud and obnoxious. He's the biggest asshole I've ever met, but everyone likes him!"

Russia snorted, "The other nations are idiots."

"Right, right!" Canada nodded furiously, then smiled again. "So that's why I like you~. Like you, like you~!" he lapsed in to French, then back in to English as he turned to face the Russian again. "We're the same."

"Eh?" Russia went quiet, then asked, "What do you mean?"

Canada felt himself sober up when he saw the sullen, quizzical expression on Russia's face. He sighed, bringing his legs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them. "When I see you, at meetings and at parties… you always look so—" his gaze flitted to the nation in question, "so _alone._ Like there's a wall between you and everyone else. Your eyes," _so beautiful, their color,_ "look as if there's an eternal winter hidden within."

They stared at each other, Russia's face holding a look of astonishment. Maybe he went too far. After all, he was just spouting nonsense. "I'm sorry…" he whispered. "It seems that I'm very drunk."**  
**

He was about to get up to go wash down the alcohol with water, but all of a sudden two arms wrapped around him and he was pulled against Russia's chest. His nape was tickled by Russia's hair as he rested his head down on Canada's shoulder, squeezing him tightly. "I-Ivan?" he stuttered out, confused by the touch and the heat coursing through his body and the rapid beat of his heart.

Muffled words were spoken against his shoulder, but he couldn't understand them because they were in Russian. Canada put a hand on his chest, intending to push away, but found that directly under his hand, a heart was beating just as profusely as his own. Russia's head shift until he felt warm lips pressing against the exposed skin of his neck. His skin burned where the Russian's lips touched, and then they moved, forming words that he could hear this time.

"Я тебя люблю."

Though he couldn't understand the words themselves, their meaning was obvious from the tone of his voice, soft and warm and so unlike anything Canada had heard from the other. His chest felt warm, and he knew it wasn't from the alcohol.

Before he could respond, Russia pulled away, apologizing quietly. "I'm sorry." He stood up from the couch, heading to the door. "I'll leave now."

"W-wait!" He hurried to the door, movements clumsy, and stopped Russia from turning the knob. Violet eyes looked down at him sadly, and to see such emotions in his eyes made Canada's chest ache. "Why are you leaving without asking for a reply?"

There was no answer. Not giving up, he continued. "I've never about you in that way…" he put a hand up when he saw Russia's expression darken, "but I didn't hate it when you kissed me! I like talking with you and visiting your house, and I think about you a lot!" he paused, wondering where he was going with this. Where _was _he going with this? Did he love Russia too? He wasn't lying when he said that he didn't mind the larger nation kissing him, but to the extent of love...

Looking at the hope on Russia's face, Canada decided to stop thinking so much about it. Hurrying on, he said, "And, um… as I said, I've never thought about my feelings towards you as being love. But, I mean, I keep flushing when you tease me and my heart races and my mind freezes and—"

He was cut off when two gloved hands cupped his face and Russia kissed him again. His eyes widened a fraction, then closed, and he let himself exploring the feeling of having Russia's lips against his own. They were dry, but soft, with a lingering taste of vodka on them, and when they moved slightly, Canada kissed him back. His pulse quickened, and he laid his hands against Russia's gloved ones. A noise of contentment sounded in Russia's throat, and he smiled against Canada's lips.

The touch lasted a moment longer before Russia pulled back from the chaste kiss, and their eyes opened, gazes locking again. He shyly smiled back, and Russia took his hands and interlaced their fingers. He pressed a kiss to the back of one hand, lips brushing against it when he spoke. "I love you."

"I love you too." The words came out without having to think about it, but they felt pleasant and _natural_ when they left his lips.

A faint blush dusted across Russia's cheeks, and Canada wished he'd had a camera to capture the moment, if only to make sure that he really witnessed such an endearing expression cross his face. Eyes closed, corners of his mouth quirked up into a smile, and such contentment within it.

He felt a laugh bubble up, and Russia opened his eyes questioningly. "I think this is the best birthday I've ever had."

"I'm glad."

Laughing again, he untangled his fingers from Russia's and picked up the shot glasses and half-empty vodka bottle from the coffee table. "Do you want to stay for dinner?"

Russia nodded. "Да."

Moving to the kitchen, he found that his legs weren't as steady as he thought they were. He tripped over himself, but instead of falling to the floor, two arms were wrapped around his waist, holding him up. Canada glanced over his shoulder to the Russian, who raised a brow at him. "Can a drunk person cook?"

"You're the one who got me drunk in the first place." He said, pouting as Russia smiled innocently at him. Still, he conceded. "I guess it isn't the brightest idea…" he grimaced at the thought of using the stove when his head still wasn't cleared of the alcohol.

Taking the glasses and vodka from his hands, Russia set them down on the dining table. He discarded his gloves and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "Sit. I'll cook."

"You can cook?" Canada asked, surprise in his voice.

"Only Russian food, да."

After giving him a glass of water to help sober him up, Russia began looking at the ingredients he had in his cupboards. Canada observed his movements with a smile, and as he started picking out various ingredients, he became curious as to what the Russian would make. While he cooked, they talked, about anything and everything that came to mind. As they conversed, Canada slowly started feeling less intoxicated, and the hours passed by smoothly.

Over three hours later, the table was set and the Canada was waited expectantly for the meal to be placed before him. The smell emanating from the oven was incredibly enticing, making him wonder why he hadn't tried any Russian dishes whenever he spent time in Moscow, on business terms or otherwise.

Finally, Russia came to the table and set two bowls down, filled with a deep red soup and various vegetables with a dollop of sour cream on top. Alongside the bowls were some sorts of pastries. "What is it?"

"The soup is called borscht, and those are pirozhki. Dig in."

"Okay." Canada happily complied.

The two ate in a companionable silence, and when they were done, Canada was amazed how delicious the meal had been. It wasn't over-the-top or fancy, just the way he liked it. Who knew that Russia could cook so well? He picked up his plates and set them in the sink.

"Thank you for the meal. I'll be sure to return the favor."

"Хорошо." Russia smiled at him, and then Canada led him back into the living and they sat on the couch.

Kumajirou walked in when they sat down, staring at them. "Where have you been, Kumahare?"

The bear didn't respond, and instead walked out. Canada shrugged, turning his attention back to Russia. "What to do you want to do now? If you want, you can go home. You've spent the whole day with me, so I'm happy enough."

"I want…" Russia paused for dramatic effect, "_you._"

"E-eh? Me?" He flushed, stuttering out, "W-w-what do you mean?"

Sitting back, Russia pulled Canada into his lap so the two were facing each other and pressed his lips to his collarbone. "This."

He pressed a light kiss against his skin, then traced his lips up to his jawline, pressing another kiss against it. Apparently, Canada would be stuck with a permanent flush so long as Russia was around. He didn't mind though. His touch felt good, if a little strange, because he'd never been used to intimate contact.

A pair of lips tenderly touched his own, taking him from his thoughts. Canada's eyes lingered on Russia's face, noting the length of his lashes and the pink hue of his cheeks, before closing them. A hand wrapped around his waist and the other settle at the back of his neck, holding him close. Canada tangled his fingers in the Russian's ash-blond hair, reveling in its soft texture. Slowly, they moved their lips against the other's, and as Canada felt himself relaxing, Russia pulled back. Opening his eyes inquisitively, Canada felt his glasses being removed, and then a kiss was laid on his cheek. Russia moved his lips up across the cheekbone, brushing the skin until he pressed a gentle kiss to his eyelid.

"Ivan…" he murmured out the other's name with a sigh of contentment and took one of Russia's hands from his body and intertwined their fingers, skin to skin.

Resting his cheek against Russia's shoulder, he smiled, amazed at the pure joy he felt. Small circles were rubbed against his back, soothing him, and the touch emboldened him to press his lips against the Russian's neck above his scarf before nuzzling into the soft material.

Canada realized the sun was setting when the light in the room gradually faded until they were left in the dark. Neither of them wanted to leave the other long enough to turn the light on, so they stayed in the darkness. The silence was broken when Russia began humming. The tune was melodic, gentle and calming, probably a lullaby.

Just as he was about to ask what song it was, there was a sudden _bang!_ as the door swung open and hit the wall adjacent to it. Jumping in surprise, Canada looked to the door and felt his mood go down the drain when he saw who had opened it.

"Hey, Mattie! The hero has arrived!"

Canada hung his head down and slapped his palm to his forehead. "Alfred…"

"Bro, you won't belie—" the sentence died off when his brother turned to look at Canada. He flipped the light on, and his eyes widened, then narrowed. "What are you doing here, commie bastard? And what the hell is my brother doing on your lap?!"

The air around them abruptly cooled, and he shivered in the sudden cold. Glancing at Russia, he could see his expression darken, and a malicious smile spread on his lips. "I wonder. Maybe… this?"

And with that, Russia forcibly turned Canada's head to face him and pulled him down, kissing his lips more roughly than he had before. In spite of himself, Canada responded and kissed him back, though he knew in the back of his mind that this was going to get ugly very quickly.

A hand on his shoulder ripped him apart from the Russian and he stumbled backwards. "Don't you dare kiss my brother, fucker!"

"You weren't against it, were you, Matvey?"

Damn it, he was just pouring fuel on the fire! Without warning, America punched the Russian, fist landing on his jaw. There was silence, and then Russia began laughing, his sanity bleeding away. He stood up, and in one quick movement, he kneed America in the gut. His brother hunched forward, holding his stomach and glaring at Russia.

It was like a flip was switched, and both moved in for another blow. However, before either of them could land another hit, Matthew stepped in between them and punched them both in the gut. America keeled over, and Russia's only reaction was a flinch. "What the fuck, Mattie?"

"Both of you, _stop fighting!_" Canada yelled, glaring at them both. "This is my house, and I won't have any fighting in it!" He focused his gaze on his brother. "Alfred, I don't know what you came here for, but _go home._ I'll talk to you at your party." Next, he turned his gaze to Russia. "Ivan, I know you don't like my brother, but don't taunt him. I don't want to see you fighting."

When the pair looked suitable scolded, he sighed and shook his head. Grumbling, America went on his way, muttering a low goodbye and slamming the door shut. Russia's eyes were cast down to the floor, lips pulled down into a frown. "I'm sorry, Matvey."

Canada grabbed his glasses from their place on the couch and put them on, then took his hand and clasped it tightly. "No, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to punch you." He chuckled and sighed again. "We were having such a good time before he interrupted."

Russia glanced up at him, a faint smile forming, and he nodded. A childish, mischievous glint came into his eyes. "Do you want to get back at him?"

"Hmm… it sounds tempting… so long as there is no dismemberment involved."

His smile widened into a grin at his words, "Don't worry, no harm will come to him."

Canada raised a brow, wondering what the Russian had in mind. "All right. What do you have in mind?"

Russia bent down, cupping his hand over his ear and whispering into it. When he pulled away, the blond was laughing again. "That seems more like a prank Prussia would do."

"You said no dismemberment."

"That I did. Okay, so when should we do it?" Tomorrow was too soon, and he was too tired, despite all the sleeping he'd done today. Maybe the day after?

He whispered again, and when he pulled away, a mischievous smile was on his lips, mirroring that of Russia's. "I think I'm looking forward to this." A yawn forced its way from his mouth. "Do you want to turn in early?"

The smile fell from Russia's face and was replaced with a puzzled look. Canada flushed; the words had subconsciously come from his mouth. "If you want to stay over, that is…" he rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, wondering if perhaps he'd said the wrong thing.

"Да, I'd love to." Russia nodded, face alight with happiness.

Without thinking, Canada pulled on Russia's arm, bringing him down just enough to peck him on the lips. When he pulled away, both of them were red all the way from their nose to their ears. He laughed nervously and looked over at the forgotten flowers. He went into the kitchen and reemerged with a vase full of water. Unwrapped the sunflowers from the paper, he set them in the vase and put it down on the coffee table. It made a wonderful centerpiece.

Then, they began getting ready for bed. He was only able to find a shirt large enough to fit Russia's frame, but he accepted it anyways and when they were ready for bed, Canada searched the multiple rooms in the house for Kumajirou and found him sleeping in the office. Running his hand through his friend's fur, he whispered softly, "Bonne nuit, Kumagami."

Returning to the bedroom, Canada found Russia sitting tentatively on the edge of the bed. "Is it really okay for me to sleep with you, Matvey?" he asked. It was an odd question coming from the Russian, one he never imagined to hear.

"Oui." He nodded, closing the door and shutting the lights off.

Searching in the dark, he found the bed and climbed into it, setting his glasses on the nightstand. Russia climbed under the covers as well, his movements stiff.

Under the sheets, Canada found Russia's hand and gripped it. Eyes closed, he felt Russia give his hand a squeeze. "Happy birthday."

He hummed in response. After a moment of silence, he spoke. "Thank you, Ivan."

"For what?"

"Spending the day with me, remembering me, giving me flowers and vodka, making dinner… and for loving me." He scooted closer and was encompassed into a hug.

"Я тебя люблю." Russia murmured with his lips against his forehead. "Спокойной ночи."

"Bonne nuit."

Canada fell asleep while listening to Russia's heartbeat, a smile on his lips. For once, he wasn't invisible.

* * *

**Ugh... I'll edit tomorrow. Can hardly focus my eyes right now. Anyways, I hope you lovely readers liked it. Even if you didn't, feedback is always welcome (no flaming... please).**

**If you're wondering about the weird cliffhanger about the prank, I'm making a companion fic to this for the Fourth of July, where the mysterious prank will show. ****Don't confuse it with my other Fourth of July fic, _Celebrations, Sicknesses, and Roses_. Completely different storyline, there. Of course, you're always welcome to check it out, but *shrug*. I don't want y'all to be confused.**

**_Edit 7/2: __First chapter of _Here, With You_ has been uploaded. Won't be mentioning the prank (yet), but check it out if you want to._  
**

**Reviews are love, and everyone knows it (if you didn't, you do now)!**

**Translation guide:**

**Добры день - (Dobry dyen') - Good afternoon  
Да - (Da) - Yes  
Спасиба - (Spasiba) - Thank you  
Я тебя люблю - (Ya tebya lyublyu) - I love you  
borscht - A Russian or Polish soup made with beets and usually served with sour cream  
****pirozhki - small Russian pastries or patties, filled with meat or fish and rice  
****Хорошо - (Kharasho) - All right* [In this context]  
****Bonne nuit - Good night  
****Спокойной ночи - (Spakoynoy nochi) - Good night**

**I think that's it... Kind of late upload, but at least I got it done.**

**Thank you for reading! (And sorry for such a long ending note.)**


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